


Spinner

by woodelf



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Chincoteague ponies, Expanded ending from the original post, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodelf/pseuds/woodelf
Summary: The Rumbelle pony AU, side by side with the Gold family paying a visit to the island of Chincoteague for their annual Pony Penning Day.
Relationships: Alice | Tilly/Robin | Margot, Belle & Gideon & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Spinner

They’d called him Spinner, for the whirling dervish of a foal he’d once been, that first summer when the humans had come and driven them into the sea.

He was an island pony, splashing into the water had not bothered him. His mother was not afraid, so that meant he shouldn’t be either. He had simply struck out with his slim, spindly legs as the seabed fell away from underneath his hooves, but as they had swum further and further from land he had begun to panic, and tried to turn around, but he was hemmed in by the herd all around him, and forced to keep going. His mother had whickered encouragingly at him, _you can do it_ , and _it’s not far, look ahead, see that spit of land?_ and he had fixed his eyes on it and concentrated on keeping his legs pistoning through the water. And it wasn’t very far, not a long swim at all for most of the ponies, but he was still so young, only two months old, and his strength had given out abruptly even as he saw the horses ahead of him stop swimming and find their feet, wading the final few yards through the channel that divided the Atlantic barrier island of Assateague that was home to the wild ponies from its more protected neighbour Chincoteague, which lay off the eastern US coastline, equally shared by the states of Virginia and Maryland.

Before he could panic, though, a man slipped out of one of the many boats that lined the passage through the channel, strange things that he had been too distracted to even pay attention to, and the foal felt strong arms come around him, holding him up.

“Don’t worry, little one, I’ve got you. I’ve been watching you the whole way. Didn’t falter until the very end,” the man said approvingly.

The foal had never felt a human’s touch before, but he was too tired to be afraid, and he knew that he was being helped. Beside him his mother was looking back as she surged up the slope to the beach, keeping a close eye on him as he relaxed and let himself be carried up onto firm ground, where the man set him down and stepped back. Feeling good dry earth under his hooves once again gave him a shot of relief-fueled adrenaline, and he put his head down and bucked, then reversed direction and reared onto his back legs, pirouetting with coltish grace.

“Look at him spin!” the man exclaimed with a grin.

“Hey, that’d be a good name for him,” someone else called out. “Spinner!”

The foal came down to Earth and shook himself, sending water flying from his coat. Having then depleted his burst of energy, he pressed his head against his mother’s black side, feeling the comforting caress of her tongue as she began to lick him dry.

After a rest, the herd had been paraded into town, and divided up into pens. Too young to be separated from his mother, the foal had been spared the fate of the older colts and fillies who were separated from their dams to be sold at an auction that would keep the herd at a size that did not deplete the resources of the island on which they lived. He tried not to listen to the younger ones crying out for their mothers, or the mothers calling frantically back. The day passed in a riot of noise and commotion and people looking at them, but at last night fell, the noise receding as the people flocked from the pony pens to the carnival site, and he finally fell deeply asleep, his mother standing guard protectively over him.

Morning dawned, and the familiar voice of the man reached the foal’s ears as he stood in the pen with the other colts and fillies, flicking his little brush tail against the mosquitoes that buzzed about in the hot sun. He missed the shade of the trees in the only home that he had ever known, and the cooling breeze that sometimes came off the water near the beach. Would they be going back? What was going on? For want of anything better to do, he trotted over to the side of the corral where the man was leaning on the top rail, his mother following in his wake.

A voice in the crowd of onlookers spoke up.

“Spinner? Is that his name?”

The man turned, looking for whomever had spoken. A small woman at the front of the crowd smiled and raised her hand a little.

“It’s what we call him,” the man explained, “But it’s only a nickname. Whoever buys him gets to choose his official, registered name.”

“I like ‘Spinner’,” the woman declared, glancing at her companion, an older man with longish, greying hair. “I’d keep it, if he were mine. Especially since he seems to already know it.”

“Are you planning on bidding, ma’am?”

“No, we’re just here as tourists,” the woman said a bit wistfully.

“Well, if you change your mind, Spinner’s been designated as one of this year’s buy-back foals – whoever buys him gets to name him and a certificate of ownership, but he gets to go back to Assateague to live out his life with the herd.”

“Why would anyone buy a horse that they can’t keep?” The woman’s companion asked incredulously.

The man shrugged. “Some people like the idea of owning a wild pony, especially one whose life they can still follow with the situation we’ve got here. They get updates on their pony, and photos, and some come back to to visit and see their pony on Assateague. They might love horses but not have a place to keep one, or the time to care for it. And there’s a sort of prestige to it, owning one of the famous Chincoteague ponies.”

The woman glanced at her companion, her eyes lighting up.

“Oh, Rum, think of it. The children at the library were so excited when I told them that we would be stopping here on our trip down the coast, after having read _Misty_ during storytime. Imagine if we came back not with just pictures and stories but a pony whose life they could be a part of!”

“Belle…” the man lodged a half-hearted protest, but the volunteer fireman was a married man himself, and knew the sound of a husband who was simply objecting for form’s sake, because there was no way he was going to be able to say no with his wife beaming at him like that.

“His name!” Belle insisted. “His name is Spinner! It’s meant to be.”

“All right, we’ll put in a bid. It can’t be very much money just to have the honour of naming a pony, basically.”

The man – Hank Winther, one of the vets who looked after the ponies’ health – wisely kept silent on that matter. So one would think, but buy-back foals could go for surprisingly high prices. Instead he asked about the name. “What’s with him being called Spinner?”

“Oh, well, I spin. On a spinning wheel, you know? My aunts taught it to me, and I keep it up as a hobby. It’s very relaxing.” The man watched the foal currently in the pen being half-urged, half-carried out by the two handlers it took to get each foal in the pen and restrain them while the bidding went on, their new owner waiting to greet them. Two more waiting volunteers advanced on Spinner and his mother, their job made easier as the mare, more used to humans, allowed herself to be herded into the auction pen, her foal following right behind.

“All right, folks,” the auctioneer announced, “We’ve got our first buy-back foal of the day here. Two months old, out of Black Fairy by Peter Pan. This is Fairy’s first foal, and he’s still a bit young to leave his mama, so the way this goes is whoever buys this little fella gets to name him and technically donate him back to the Volunteer Firefighters’ Company. He’ll go back to live with the herd on Assateague and maybe someday he’ll have some mares of his own and y’all can visit and see the new crop of foals he’s siring.” He swept his eyes over the crowd.

“All right, let’s get the bidding started –”

Ten minutes later, Belle threw her arms around her husband as the word “Sold!” rang out as the auctioneer pointed at them. Drummond Gold chuckled ruefully.

“You could have had an actual pony to take home for the same price!”

She grinned. “But this way we don’t have to muck out any stalls. But – “ she tilted her head, considering something. “Maybe when Gideon’s older, we could buy one for him?” They’d been lucky to find someone to look after their son today at the hotel while they attended the auction; he was too young to appreciate it and cranky enough from teething without adding in the noise and the crowds and the muggy weather.

“Maybe,” he allowed. “If he’s interested. Come on, let’s see about paying and finding out what we need to do about your pony.”

“Spinner,” she reminded him happily. “His name is Spinner.”

* * *

They stayed at the fairgrounds until fall, Spinner and his mother, in a large paddock with a group of other mares and foals – some buy-back ponies like himself, others younger foals who had not been ready to leave their dams yet a few months earlier but were now weaned and ready to be picked up and taken to new homes by their buyers. By the time he and the remaining horses were swum back across the channel to Assateague, the brown and white foal had been called Spinner often enough that he knew the name for his own, and that his human friend was Hank. He made the crossing without difficulty this time, charging up the sandy beach with excitement, nostrils flaring to take in the sharp, nearly-forgotten scent of the pine forest. Now weaned, he learned to graze on the salty marsh grass, and drink brackish water, and that rose hips and persimmons and bayberry twigs were also good to eat. They often saw people, who came to enjoy the beach and watch for birds and exclaim over the ponies. They watched, and pointed, but otherwise left them alone, and he watched them back, curiously, almost disappointed when they moved out of the way when they walked by, most of the older horses paying them no more attention than they did to any other wildlife on the island. The tourists thinned out as the weather changed, becoming damp and chilly, and he learned where to go for the best protection from the winter winds, his coat growing in thicker, keeping him warm.

They saw the riders again – saltwater cowboys, they called themselves – as the weather warmed into spring. The small bands of horses were rounded up into the corrals on Assateague and a man went amongst them, poking and prodding and checking their feet, and sometimes jabbing something like a long, thin thorn into them. Spinner did not like that part one bit, but he had learned to trust humans, and the man who had helped him the last little way across the channel in the summer was there, so he bore their attentions bravely and was rewarded with a friendly pat and a scratch and a “Good boy, Spinner!” before he and his mother and the rest of their band were released back to their lives. The months passed, and then it was a hot, humid July morning again, and when the riders came to drive them into the sea, his mother had a new foal by her side. Although this year, she wasn’t as lucky as last, and Spinner sadly watched his little sibling taken away while his mother screamed her desolation. For a while, he enjoyed the extra attention she lavished on him once again, but he was growing up, growing more adventurous, no longer needing to be by her side all day, seeking out other colts and fillies his own age to play with. 

Sometime during his second year, his sire chased him off, but it didn’t take long before he found the band of bachelor males, and he soon made friends with a gold and white colt called Prince. Life would have been good if it hadn’t been for the over-aggressive older colt with a long, curving white mark on his black side called Captain Hook. He took the play fights they all engaged in far more seriously than any of the others, viciously biting and kicking with full intent to harm. Prince was the only one who was able to best him occasionally, and Spinner was glad when Hook left them, having defeated an older herd stallion and taken over his band of mares. The defeated stallion, called Dove, was welcomed into their group in his place. As the colts were chased out of their natal bands by their sires before they could turn into future competition, so the older fillies were driven away by their dams to prevent inbreeding. It was one of these young mares, temporarily on her own, that caught Prince’s eye one day, and Spinner watched as they moved away together to start a new band of their own. Without his friend, he began to yearn for a family of his own. He didn’t feel up to challenging an established herd stallion just yet, but he kept a lookout for a lone mare like Prince had found, and one day came across a beautiful bay pinto mare looking a little lost and alone. Whinnying, he arched his neck and approached her, prancing and sniffing and nibbling at her shoulders and flanks.

Snorting, she moved away briefly, but then, she stopped and stood still for him, her tail raised. Spinner flared his nostrils, breathing in her scent, her readiness. He didn’t need a second invitation, nature telling him what to do, and he moved into place behind her, rising onto his hind legs. 

* * *

“Hey, Spinner, have you found yourself a girlfriend?” Hank’s voice was cheerful as he herded them towards a holding pen. Spinner went in without a fuss, knowing the routine. “You have! Hey guys, Spinner’s hooked up with Milly!”

Milly. Spinner arched his neck and half-reared, showing off, then quieted down, but Milly moved away, restless, when he tried to groom her. Obligingly, he let her be. Ever since spring, when he’d met her, he’d been happier than he’d ever been. He loved having someone to take care of, to look after and cherish. He stood guard proudly as she grazed, and slept with one ear cocked in case of any threats. Normally he kept a distance between them and any of the other stallions, but here, he could not avoid them. In the morning, when they swam across the channel at slack tide, he kept close by Milly’s side, making sure that not only was she swimming strongly, but that others knew that she was taken. They were rested on the beach for a while before being led in a parade to the fairgrounds, where they were left to mill around in one of the pens. Milly still wasn’t settling, and Spinner looked around, assessing for threats. Most of the herd stallions were too busy worrying about their own families to be interested in stealing someone else’s mares at the moment, however. He saw Prince nosing affectionately at a small white filly by the side of one of the three mares he now had in his band. Following Milly’s gaze, though, he saw Hook, strutting arrogantly around his own larger herd.

It wasn’t long, however, before Hook became aware of Milly, and Spinner had to warn him away with bared teeth and laid-back ears more than once before they swam back across the channel a few days later. Once back on Assateague, Spinner was able to put some distance between them, but every now and again he would see Hook lurking around, and he ate in jerky mouthfuls, and slept less, keeping a constant vigilance, watching over Milly. He led her to where the rose hips and persimmons grew as the seasons turned into fall and winter, enjoying the variety in their diet, and made sure she had the best pickings before eating himself, a new roundness showing in her belly that was from more than just all the extra water the ponies needed to drink to counter the salty grasses that formed the bulk of their diet.

And then came the day when Hook refused to be chased away, snaking his head out as he attempted to drive Milly away to join the rest of his herd, and Spinner gathered up all his courage and threw himself upon the other stallion, screaming his battle call. 

* * *

_“Mrs. Gold? This is Hank Winther, out on Chincoteague. It’s about your pony, Spinner.”_

Belle’s heart clenched in her chest as the voice came through her phone. They never called. For the past four and a half years, they’d received regular updates and photos of the pony they’d bought, photos which she displayed on a board in the children’s section of the library. The children had been as delighted as she had been with the photo of Spinner and Milly that she’d cheerfully captioned _“Spinner has a girlfriend!_ ”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, knowing there had to be something wrong, something seriously wrong.

_“We found Spinner with a badly infected leg, had to trailer him over to Chincoteague for treatment. He’s got a pretty nasty gash on his leg that hasn’t been able to heal, probably as a result of a fight with another stallion. The mare he was seen with last year is now in another stallion’s band.”_

Belle took a deep breath. “Okay, he’s hurt. But he’s going to recover, right?”

_“I’m not going to lie – we lost a mare that had an infected cut on her hoof a couple of years ago, so we’ve got that in the back of our minds. If we could have caught this sooner, I’d be more optimistic, but this happened long enough ago that he’s down to skin and bones; the leg is and has obviously been painful enough to keep him from moving much in search of food. He’d grazed the area around where he was found bare, but he’d parked himself next to a pool of water so at least he was drinking. We’ve put him on a careful diet to build him back up without triggering any bloat, and the good news is that he’s eating everything we give him. And we’ve cleaned out the wound and are applying poultices, and pumped him full of antibiotics. The leg is already looking a little better, and we hope that he’ll be just fine, with time and care. They’re hardy stock, these ponies.”_

“Is there anything I can do?” Belle asked. “If you need more money for his care –“

_“We’re just fine for now; I just wanted to let you know what was going on. We’ll keep you updated on his progress.”_

“Yes, please do. And tell him that we love him.”

Hank chuckled. _“Will do. He’s a very nice pony; I’ve always been fond of him_.”

* * *

For the next few weeks, Belle received periodic emails detailing Spinner’s progress. At first it sounded good – the infection was clearing up, the cut healing nicely. But there was still heat and swelling in the leg, and Spinner was still obviously lame. An ultrasound had been ordered, a torn ligament found.

 _This is a very serious injury_ , Hank had written, _with a recovery period of 8-12 months. He’ll need to stay on complete stall rest for another two-four weeks, while we concentrate on keeping the swelling down. Hosing, ice, wraps, NSAIDS – whatever it takes. Then we’ll order another ultrasound, and if things are looking better, we’ll start Spinner on some gentle walking. Of course, that means we have to teach him to lead on a halter rope! Luckily he was too far gone to care about us putting a halter on him to start with, and he seems to have accepted it without too much fuss. After another month we’ll check his progress with another ultrasound and hopefully be able to add in some light trotting. The exercise will help the ligament heal correctly, but will have to be carefully controlled and increased in slow increments. We hope that he will eventually make a full recovery, but I have to warn you that It is quite possible that he will never be completely sound again. Ligament tears don’t always heal well, and the resulting scar tissue is prone to re-injury. Feel free to write or call with any questions you might have._

He’d included a picture of Spinner that he’d taken, the pony standing with his head down, looking utterly sad and forlorn. Chewing on her bottom lip, she poised her hands over the computer keyboard for a couple of minutes, started to reply once or twice, then deleted. Finally she went in search of Rum, finding him in his study. “It’s about Spinner,” she said, showing him the email.

Gold frowned as he finished reading it. “Poor Spinner,” he said sympathetically, automatically flexing his own messed-up ankle, and feeling the stiffness in the joint. “Do you want to give him a call?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” Belle took out her phone and dialed the number that Hank had included with the email.

“Hello, Dr. Winther, this is Mrs. Gold, in Storybrooke. And my husband’s here too; is this a good time to talk about Spinner?”

_“Yes, certainly, what do you want to know?”_

“How much pain is he in?” Gold asked immediately, and Belle’s gaze flicked down to his right ankle, wondering how much this was reminding him of his own injury, his limitations. He could walk well enough with his cane, but he couldn’t chase after their son in the way that she knew he wished he could.

_“Well, less than he was when we first found him, that’s for sure. His leg…wasn’t a pretty sight. But still enough that he doesn’t want to put any weight on that leg. Keeps his hip cocked and that foot off the ground most of the time. Which is good in a way, because he needs to stay still. It’s when horses start feeling better and are going stir crazy from lack of exercise that they tend to aggravate injuries that are still healing. Same with people, to tell the truth, even though they know better. We’re doing everything that we can to keep the swelling down and make him as comfortable as possible.”_

“All right. You spoke of a very long recovery period, with a lot of care and involved, with no guarantees at the end of it. Will there be any problem with devoting the necessary time and attention to him?”

“ _It’ll be a lot of work,_ ” Hank admitted, “ _But don’t worry; we’ll take care of him.”_

“The bills for all those ultrasounds, and anything else he needs. Send them to me.”

Hank hesitated. _“Are you sure?”_

“It won’t be a hardship,” Belle assured him. “Let us help in any way we can. Please.”

 _“All right, thank you_.” He went quiet for a moment. “ _What concerns me is that by the end of all this, he won’t really be a wild pony anymore, and I don’t know how well he’ll adjust to going back to Assateague after being waited on hand and foot for most of a year. And that’s with the best-case scenario, if he heals completely. If he doesn’t, if he’s always going to be a little bit lame, I’m not sure if I’m going to feel comfortable sending him back to Assateague. If he tries to win his mare back, or another one, I don’t think that leg would hold up well in a fight. It’s too early to tell, and it’s not my decision alone, but I was wondering, if it came to that – would you be interested in taking him?”_

“Oh!” exclaimed Belle, her gaze immediately going to the window. Moving so she could look out into their backyard, she watched Gideon leaning back in his swing as he soared high into the air, then started to swoop back down. Gideon would love to have a pony; she didn’t even need to ask that.

“What do you mean by ‘a little bit lame’?” Gold asked. “Would he be rideable?” He leaned back in his chair and glanced out of the window, his thoughts obviously going to the same place that Belle’s had.

_“Can’t really say yet, but probably in good enough shape most days. The leg might be bothered by overexertion, or certain kinds of weather. Gentle riding would be fine, but nothing vigorous, no competition and no showing.”_

Once he learned to ride properly, Belle knew, Gideon would want a pony that he could gallop about on, and jump things. But he was only just turned five, and needed to learn to ride first. A gentle, quiet pony would be ideal for that. They could always get another when Gideon was ready for more advanced riding, and Spinner would be good company for them. Horses were social animals, after all, and she was small enough that she could give him some light exercise by riding him when that time came.

“Gideon would love to have him, you know,” Belle told Rum. “We could board him at the stables.”

“Would he be suitable for a beginning rider, Dr. Winther?” Gold asked. “A five year-old boy?”

_“He’d have to be broken to saddle and bridle first, of course, but after that, I don’t see why not. He’s very sweet-tempered, never snapped at us once even when we were messing about with his infected leg and he must have been in a lot of pain at the time. He seemed to know that we were trying to help.”_

“Then I think we’d be delighted to give him a home if he needs it,” said Belle, looking at Rum, and he nodded in acquiescence.

 _“That’s good to hear. Maybe it won’t be needed. I’ll keep you updated_.”

* * *

To say that Gold would be delighted to have a pony in their actual, everyday lives was perhaps something of an overstatement, but Gideon’s excitement at the idea when Belle told him the news at dinnertime more than made up for it. Even when warned that if Spinner came to live with them, he had yet to be broken to bridle and saddle and it would be a while before he could be ridden didn’t dampen his enthusiasm.

“I can help train him! And I can feed him, and brush him, and tell him stories.” Gideon beamed at them. “Maybe I can take him in for show and tell.”

Rum couldn’t help grinning at the image of them leading the pony into Gideon’s pre-school class. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, son, but maybe, once he’s settled in – if he comes – then your teacher could bring your class over to the stables for a visit to see him.” He glanced at Belle. “You’re sure that you want this? It’s going to be extra work for you, taking care of a pony.”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “If he can’t go back to the island and have a family of his own, then we’ll be his family.” It had been years since she’d ridden, but she knew how to take care of a horse.

“We could sell him on,” Rum suggested hesitantly. “To someone who knows more about dealing with these kinds of injuries. Maybe someplace like a nice farm?”

“No!” Gideon stood up on his chair in agitation. “He’s our pony! You can’t sell him! Please.” He looked perilously close to tears.

Belle tugged at his sleeve. “Gideon, sit down. We won’t sell him, not if you want him. I promise.”

Gideon turned his big brown eyes on his father. “You too, Papa? Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise, if he means that much to you.” He really oughtn’t be surprised, Gold thought, not with the way that Gideon felt about animals. He had already rescued a not-yet-fledged bird that had fallen from its nest this year and had made them stop and wait for a turtle to cross the road ahead of them despite Gold being sure that he could drive right over it harmlessly.

“He does,” Gideon said firmly, sitting back down. “Pass the pickles, please.”

* * *

Hank called them back in June. _“We’ve made the decision; Spinner’s yours if you want him. He’s coming along well, but still favours the leg sometimes, and we’d feel better knowing that someone was keeping an eye on it. There’s something else, though.”_ He hesitated. _“Milly was pregnant at the spring round-up, and for it to be showing, that means it has to be Spinner’s foal, not Hook’s. Since this is going to be his only foal, unless you decide to breed him, I thought you might like to see it. If you’d like to come down to Pony Penning this year, you could pick Spinner up and let him continue on under your own vet’s care. I can print out some instructions for you on what we’ve been doing and what still needs to be done, but he’s well enough that the trailer ride to a new home shouldn’t bother him.”_

Belle turned bright eyes to Rum and Gideon, who were nearby, waving them over. “Hold on a minute, let me ask my husband and son. It’s Spinner; he’s ours!” she informed them. “And he got Milly pregnant before he lost her to Hook, and the foal will be here by Pony Penning Day, actually might already be born now. And do we want to go and pick up Spinner then so that we can see his foal?”

“Go to Chincoteague?” asked Gideon, wanting to make sure.

“Yep. You were only a baby last time we were there; do you want to see the wild ponies?”

“YES!” he shouted, jumping up and down.

“Is the foal going to be put up for auction?” Gold asked.

Belle repeated his question into the phone.

_“Don’t know yet. Would you be interested in it if it is?”_

Belle relayed the question and Gold shrugged almost shamefacedly. “Gideon will need a more active horse by the time the foal’s old enough to ride. If it’s going to be sold anyway – yeah, I’d like to keep at least half of the family together.”

Gideon reached up imploringly for the phone, his face full of urgency.

“I think my son wants to say something,” Belle told Hank, amused, and handed the phone to Gideon.

“Hi Dr Winther this is Gideon please tell Spinner that we love him and will be coming for him soon.” The sentence came rushing out all in one breath.

_“Will do, young man. I’ll tell him that someone is very excited to meet him at long last.”_

* * *

Over the course of the next month they made preparations. The vet who attended the horses kept at the Storybrooke Stables assured them that she would be able to continue to supervise Spinner’s recovery. A roomy box stall was reserved for him, and a tack trunk filled with all the supplies which they would need to take care of him. Gold acquired a horse trailer, and practiced driving with it hitched to the back of his car. It had been too late in the year to secure a room on Chincoteague for Pony Penning Day, but they had found a hotel with an opening on the mainland nearby and had settled in, arriving on Chincoteague itself the day before the Pony Swim to meet Spinner and with an invitation to lunch at Hank Winther’s place. Belle gripped Gideon’s hand as they were led out to the barn.

“Remember, don’t rush at him and speak quietly. He doesn’t know who you are yet.”

“Okay, mama.” Gideon tugged at his hand and Belle let him go as they walked into the welcome shade of the barn. Gideon went like an arrow to the brown and white pony whose ears pricked forward with interest as they came near.

“He looks good,” Belle said, smiling. While he wasn’t quite the vivacious foal that he had once been, Spinner no longer had the dejected air she had seen in the last photo of him that Hank had sent.

“Can I pet him?” asked Gideon, nearly vibrating with the desire to reach out and touch.

“Put your hand out,” Hank instructed. “Let him smell you.”

Fearlessly Gideon held his small hand out towards Spinner’s head. The pony pushed at him with his nose, sniffing him, and Gideon giggled as his breath tickled over his hand.

“That’s a ‘yes’,” Hank smiled. “Go ahead and give him a good scratch on his neck; they like that, it’s like being groomed.”

Gideon reached as high as he could, Spinner obligingly dropping his head down over his stall door. “Good boy, Spinner,” he crooned lovingly.

“Well,” said Belle. “I can see you’re going to be fast friends.”

After a few minutes, Hank clipped a rope onto Spinner’s halter and led him out of his stall. Aside from his leg, which they could see he still favoured as he was moved out down the barn aisleway, he looked good, fit and glossy. Hank showed them how to check for heat and swelling in Spinner’s leg and began to run over Spinner’s routine with them, although he said they could always contact him with questions. Hank’s kids showed up as lunch neared, 10 year-old Tommy taking an obvious delight in having someone younger than himself with whom he could share all his equine wisdom. Gideon nodded along earnestly as he was informed what Spinner’s favourite treats were and where he liked to be scratched best. 14 year-old Karen was quieter, but it was obvious that she liked Spinner and was going to miss him when she asked if they could write sometime and let her know how he had settled into his new home. Belle promised and was glad to learn that Spinner had had their companionship during the past few months.

Presently Hank’s wife Teri called them in for lunch and suggested things they could go do and see afterwards. “Go across and see the ponies on Assateague before the Swim,” she advised. “They’re all rounded up and waiting in the corrals. You won’t get as good a view tomorrow unless you’ve got a reservation on a charter boat.”

Gold nodded. “We did on our first trip here, but this was too last minute. All the seats were booked months in advance.”

“We won’t see them swimming?” asked Gideon uncertainly.

“You’ll see them up on the big screen, if nothing else,” Teri assured him. “They’ll be filming them so that everyone can see. But it will be very crowded. Not so bad for the swim back on Saturday, though.”

Her words proved prophetic, and Wednesday morning passed in a haze of heat and crowds and trying to see anything. But they’d had a good view of the ponies being paraded to the carnival grounds afterwards, and Gideon had called and waved excitedly when they had seen Hank riding past. They’d followed along, and when all the horses had been corralled and Hank had a moment, he’d pointed out Milly to them, and Milly’s foal. Spinner’s foal.

Like both his parents, he was a dark brown and white pinto. “A real chip off the ol’ block,” Gold observed.

“Hey, that’d be a good name,” said Belle. “Chip.” She frowned as the foal tried to nurse and his mother moved away. “Why isn’t she letting him nurse?”

“Stressed, maybe. I’ll keep an eye on them, make sure that there isn’t a problem,” Hank answered.

They’d left in time to attend the daily showing of the movie _Misty of Chincoteague_ , and had lunch afterward. Gideon had demanded a brief visit with Spinner and then they’d returned to the hotel, where they’d all crashed for a long nap, and had been ready for rides and a fairground food dinner when the carnival opened at 7 pm. After a couple of hours, though, they headed back to the hotel. In the morning would be the auction.

“We’re putting Milly’s foal up for sale,” Hank told them when he saw them. “We were thinking of making him a buy-back pony, since we’re always looking to increase genetic diversity and he’s Spinner’s only foal. But it seems like Milly is trying to wean him already. I saw her letting him feed once, but she’s obviously impatient to be done with it. So we might as well put him up for someone to take home.”

They’d looked at each other, uncertain, but in the end, they hadn’t been able to let him go to a home where no one knew about him, about his father.

“We’re sentimental schmucks,” Gold grumbled as he paid for the foal, Gideon bouncing in excitement by their sides.

“What about his name?” asked Belle, as they were given the form to fill out. “Do we want Chip? ‘Spinner’s Chip Off The Old Block’ in full?”

“No,” said Gideon. He’d been thinking furiously. “It should be something connected with the island. Those candles you bought the first day, you said they were made from the same shrub that the ponies eat sometimes. Bayberry. And the auctioneer said he was a bay pinto. We should call him that, because they smelled like Christmas, and he’s like the best present ever.”

“Bayberry? And Bay for short?” asked Belle, smiling. “I like it.”

“It’s fine with me,” Rum agreed, and the certificate of ownership was filled out with Bay’s name.

Spinner was in the small paddock attached to the Winther barn when they drove into the yard, Belle having elected to ride in the trailer with Bay to keep him safe and quiet. Hank quickly fetched a lead rope and passed it to Rum as he came out of the car. “Can you clip this onto Spinner’s halter and hang onto him? I don’t think he’ll try anything, but be ready to pull him back if he takes an objection to Bayberry.”

“Yes,” said Rum almost grimly. If Spinner tried to attack a little foal, then he was prepared to use his cane to stop him if necessary. He went into the paddock and caught Spinner without any trouble, turning to see Hank lower the ramp of the trailer and go up to join Belle. Bay was still without any halter, and for fear that he would try to leap off the side of the ramp if they simply shooed him down it, Hank simply lifted the foal up in his arms again with the ease of long experience, and carried him down into the paddock. Belle followed and closed the gate behind them. She put one hand on Bay’s neck, curling her fingers in his bristly little mane to keep him from bolting.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked him in a cheerful voice. “Just a short trip for today, and we’ll take plenty of breaks every few hours on the way home. “And you’ll have your daddy for company then. Here he comes to meet you now.” 

Hank moved away, letting them learn how to handle their own ponies.

Bay stood stock still, trembling. It had been scary going into the trailer, and he’d been glad of the woman who still stood next to him, as she’d helped him balance and kept up a constant stream of soft, soothing words. But while he was glad to be back on solid ground, he still wanted his mother, still wanted to be back home, safe amidst his herd, not here in this strange place. Then his nostrils flared and his eyes fixed on another pony who came ambling towards them inquisitively. A fellow pony was, at least, familiar. He continued to stand still as the other pony began to sniff him over thoroughly, making soft, whuffling noises. And then a long tongue came out and began washing him, and he relaxed, leaning into the comforting caress, his eyes half-drifting shut. Maybe he would be all right. 

“Do you think he knows?” Belle asked, enchanted, deciding it was safe to let Bay go and backing away to join Hank by the fence. At a nod from the vet, Rum unclipped the shank from Spinner’s halter and joined them, leaving the two horses to get acquainted. “Can he tell that Bay’s his son?”

Hank shook his head. “No way he could. But he probably smells Assateague on him, and Milly, if he remembers her.” Next to them, hanging onto the fence rails from the outside of the paddock, Gideon was unusually silent as he watched the ponies with a deep sense of satisfaction.

Spinner ignored the humans as they finally trooped out of the paddock. He had something more important to do. He had someone to take care of.

* * *

_2 years later…_

Tilly stood within the stall at the Mills Riding Academy and stroked her gold and white pony, Beauty, knowing she had to say goodbye, at least for now. 

"I am going to miss you so much." She pressed her forehead to Beauty's brow, playing with her ears in the way she liked. "But I'm going away to college, and I can't take care of you anymore. But I made sure that this is a nice place, it's clean and well-rated and all the horses look happy and healthy, so I think you'll like it here. The woman who owns this place seems really nice and she already has a student in mind for you, a boy who's ready for a show-quality pony. And you certainly are that, aren't you, my beautiful girl? I'll keep all of your ribbons safe, and maybe you can win some more for him, eh? And Regina promised that I can visit when I come home on breaks; it won't be too far out of my way. That's one of the reasons I chose this place, because I didn't think I could bear letting you go completely." Her hands never stopped moving, caressing, and Beauty's eyes had half shut in contentment, her ears relaxed but listening. She was used to traveling, and unbothered by being in an unfamiliar stall. "We can go for a trail ride then, okay? I've seen the photos on their website; there's woods and meadows and a creek and fallen logs you can jump; it all looks lovely."

Tilly could feel her throat closing up and swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "I suppose I ought to get going now, before I start blubbing all over you and make you upset. I don't want you to be; I want you to be happy and make new friends and not miss me too much. Okay? Just don't forget me completely, because I will be back to visit, I promise." She gave a swift kiss to the velvety muzzle and slipped out of the stall, latching the door behind her just as she heard voices and a neatly-turned out brown and white pony clattered into the stables, ridden by a young boy with a petite woman with chestnut brown hair walking by his side. 

Tilly smiled. "Oh, Miss Mills told me she had another Chincoteague here; is that him?"

The other woman seemed equally delighted when she caught sight of the occupied stall. "Oh! Is that the pony that she bought for Roland? She's beautiful! And yes, this is Spinner. And I'm Belle, and this is my son Gideon. And actually we've got Spinner's son Bay here, too, but he's only two years old. A very rambunctious two years old," Belle added, laughing. "He's out in the training ring right now."

"I'm Tilly, and this is Golden Tide, which I thought sounded pretty when we named her, and tied in to the names of her sire and granddam, but I didn't like the sound of "Goldie" as a nickname, so she goes by Beauty. Pleased to meet you. I was just saying goodbye to her," she explained, wistfully. "I'm going off to college next week."

"Oh, that must be hard," said Belle, sympathetically. "She'll be well-looked after here, though, I can assure you of that. And Spinner will be right in the stall next door to keep her company. And Bay's in the stall on Spinner's other side." 

Spinner pulled towards the new pony, his ears pricked forward. He nickered a greeting. 

Gideon swung down out of the saddle, holding onto Spinner's reins. "He wants to go say hi, may he?"

Tilly glanced towards Beauty, who had her head over her stall door and her ears pricked towards Spinner with equal interest. She nickered back. "Sure, she looks she wants to say hi, too." 

Gideon let Spinner move forward, and everyone smiled as the two ponies touched muzzles. Belle took out her phone and snapped a picture. 

"Well, it looks like they've already made friends," Belle said. 

"That makes me feel better about leaving," Tilly admitted. The two horses had not separated, Spinner nibbling along Beauty's crest, grooming her. "Look, if you come here regularly, could you give her an apple from me occasionally? It's her favourite treat." 

"Of course," Belle said. "In fact -- " she took her phone back out of her pocket. "Do you want to exchange numbers? I could send you an occasional picture, so you don't worry about her."

"Would you really?" Tilly's face lit up. "That would be fantastic. Thank you ever so much." She pulled out her own phone and offered it in trade for Belle's, reclaiming it once Belle had entered her own number. 

"You need to be able to concentrate in college," Belle said firmly. "You can't do that if you're worrying about your pony."

"Not mine anymore," said Tilly sadly. 

"Nonsense," said Belle firmly. "As long as you love her, and she you, a part of you will always belong to each other. Now, Gideon, let's get Spinner untacked and cleaned up so he can spend some time getting to know his new neighbour." She unlatched Spinner's stall door and Gideon led him in, Beauty pulling her head back into her stall and sticking it up against the bars that divided the back halves of the stalls, watching Belle heave the saddle off of Spinner's back. 

"Right," said Tilly, squaring her shoulders. "I should get going." It was a good time, Beauty was nicely distracted. She turned towards the door of the barn just as another boy on a pony rode in, this one about nine or ten, she judged, with thick dark curly hair and dimples showing on his face as he grinned at something the girl walking by his side had just said. The girl was about her own age, Tilly thought, feeling a flutter in the pit of her stomach, tall with long shining dark blonde hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

"Oh hey," said the new girl, smiling at her with an easy confidence that Tilly envied. "You're new. Come to take lessons?"

"Drop off a pony," Tilly said, tilting her head in Beauty's direction. "I'm going away to college." Recklessly she wondered if it was too late to switch to the nearest community college instead. 

"Yeah? Me, too. Boston U. What about you?"

Tilly grinned broadly, unable to believe her luck. "Same." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Tilly." 

The tall girl shook it. "Margot. And this is my brother Roland." 

Roland jumped down from the gray gelding he was riding. "Hi." He looked between the two of them, then leaned in to mock whisper in Tilly's ear as he walked by. "She likes girls, if you're interested."

"ROLAND!" Margot exclaimed, shocked and embarrassed. "I can't believe you said something like that. You can't just go around assuming that everyone -- "

"I do," said Tilly with a shy grin. "Like girls."

"Oh." Margot's cheeks coloured faintly.

Belle, having paused to listen with wide eyes, smiled delightedly as she resumed currying Spinner, . Gideon remained oblivious, assiduously cleaning Spinner's bridle from a stool in the corner.

With an innocent whistle, Roland went to peer in at Beauty. "Hello, what's your name?" He held out his hand, and Beauty came over to sniff it. 

"Officially it's Golden Tide, but I just call her 'Beauty'." 

"Hey, Beauty. I'm Roland, and this is Cloud." He glanced back at the pony whose reins he still held. "Cloud's a nice pony, but he's a lazy butt at jumping," he informed her.

Tilly laughed. "Well, Beauty isn't. She loves to jump." 

"You know," said Margot, "if you can wait till Roland has put away Cloud and you have the time, we could go out for a coffee or something and you could tell us all about Beauty, what she likes and what she doesn't, anything to watch out for when riding her."

"Yeah, I can make the time," Tilly answered. feeling far better about leaving Beauty than she had ever imagined she could. The stables already felt like a warm and welcoming place, full of friendly people. 

"Is that good with you, Roland?" Margot checked. "We can go to Granny's." 

"Sure, if you buy me a milkshake." 

Gideon proved he had been listening after all. "Hey, mom, can we stop for a milkshake before we go home?"

Belle rolled her eyes. "Yes, I suppose so. How's that bridle coming?"

Gideon held it up, the leather shining and the bit clean. "Done." 

"Good job. Hang it up and wipe down the saddle, and you can go over Spinner with the body brush when I'm done here." Belle cleaned out the currycomb and picked up the stiff brush to remove the dirt she'd loosened. Spinner stretched his neck out in obvious enjoyment of the good scratch, but he was still visibly distracted by his new stablemate, often glancing at Beauty who was watching him right back in between nibbles at her hay net. When they'd finished grooming him and left, Spinner only watched them go for a moment before retreating into his stall and returned his attention to his new next-door neighbour. Belle grinned and took Gideon's hand, swinging it between them as they made their way out to the car, already planning a message she was going to send. 

In his stall, Spinner was remembering what he had been missing, and feeling irritated by the wall dividing the stalls. How was he supposed to properly court a mare with that in the way? He was cheered up by Bay's return from his training session, and wondered if the new mare would be turned out with him and Bay and the other horses in the pasture for the evening as they usually were, once the people had stopped coming for the day. He didn't see why not, and pranced a little in place with pleasure at the thought. Herds should be together, after all, and families even more so. He had claimed Bay as his own, and he already knew he wanted Beauty, too. He half reared and gave a bugling neigh, attracting the attention of the remaining human inhabitants of the stables. 

"Wow, Spinner's feeling frisky today." Margot grinned. "Showing off for the new girl in town, huh?" She wandered back over to his stall, waiting for Roland to finish grooming Cloud. 

Tilly followed her and clicked her tongue when she was in front of Beauty's stall, coaxing Beauty to her for a last pat goodbye, tidying her forelock. The mare's eyes were bright and interested. "Got yourself an admirer, haven't you? Well, you can get to know him and tell me all about him when I come back to visit during winter break, okay?"

"And you behave yourself, Spinner." Margot stroked his nose as he stuck his head out of the stall to keep an eye on Beauty. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She winked at Tilly, and Tilly laughed. 

"Hey, Beauty." Tilly made sure the mare was looking at her. "Do you like Spinner?"

Beauty tossed her head up and down in an apparent "yes". 

Roland and Margot laughed.

"Are you going to behave like a proper lady once we leave, though?"

Beauty shook her head from side to side, her mane flying. No, she seemed to say. 

"Whoa," Roland exclaimed, looking from Beauty to Tilly. "How -- ?"

Margot looked at Tilly. "You signaled her somehow, didn't you?" she guessed shrewdly. 

Tilly grinned. "I did. I'll show you how when we get to Granny's." 

***

At Granny's, Belle took out her phone as she and Gideon waited for their orders and sent a quick text to Rum. _Spinner_ _has a girlfriend!_

Gold sent back a simple _?._

_Remember I told you that Regina's been wanting to buy another pony for children’s lessons, and Spinner impressed her so much that she went looking for a Chincoteague? Well, she found one and she arrived today._

**Belle had done a little quick research, wondering if Beauty had been born on Assateague like Spinner and Bay. She hadn't been, but her mother had, and she'd discovered something else.**

_I_ _don’t know if you remember, but when Spinner first hurt his leg, Hank mentioned a mare who had died from an infected cut on her hoof._ _That was Tidewater Princess, and this is her granddaughter! Her registered name is Golden Tide, but she goes by 'Beauty'. Here, let me show you._

A pic of a pretty little gold and white mare popped up on Gold’s phone, nose to nose with Spinner. 

_TRUE LOVE'S KISS,_ Belle typed cheerfully. 

_They just met!_ Gold typed back. 

_Oh hush, the kids at the library will love it_ , she retorted. 

_And horses don't kiss._

"Your father's being difficult," Belle muttered, and showed the picture to Gideon. "I thought "True Love's Kiss" would be a good caption to put under this when I stick it up at the library, but he says that horses don't kiss."

"True Love's Nuzzle," said Gideon promptly. 

"Yes, excellent." Belle typed it back defiantly. 

_TRUE LOVE'S NUZZLE._

In his shop, Gold laughed. Well, far be it for him to stand in the way of romance. 

_TRUE LOVE'S NUZZLE_ , he conceded. 

**Author's Note:**

> First, Roland is the younger brother of Margot in this instead of the other way around, and their parents Robin and Marian are both alive and happily married.
> 
> Second, every pony in this story other than Spinner and Beauty have real-life counterparts actually living on Assateague island, although at times I changed the gender or colour of the individual. Captain Hook is in reality the chestnut pinto mare Lady Hook, for example, but she really does have a hook-shaped mark on her side! Black Fairy is based on Black Pearl, Peter Pan is really Shadow, Milly (aka Milah) is Milly Sue, Baelfire is based on Fire Star, Prince Charming (aka David) is…Prince. Pony!Belle's registered name is based off of her granddam’s name, the real-life Tidewater Princess (who sadly did die young). You can see pictures of all the ponies  
> here!


End file.
